


Splinter

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Post-canon Striders [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dave has PTSD, Gen, Threats, bro is fucking awful, dirk is such a good bro, mild violence, my tumblr is knight-of-heart-and-art, strider drama, triggered by his abuser being anywhere near him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 22:56:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12874821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: Dave's got a problem. A familiar one, really. He never has found a safe way to deal with it, though. But things are different on Earth C, and Dirk is able and willing to help.





	Splinter

TG: yo  
TG: dirk  
TG: need you to be home right now man

Well, you are home. On the roof, actually, because when you're not doing anything that's where you tend to end up. Rose could probably give you a couple dozen reasons why your need to find the high ground when you're by yourself is some indicator of deep-seated trauma, but you just like to be up here and look at shit that isn't ocean. And hey, Earth C is pretty. 

TG: dirk check your goddamn messages  
TG: you know what actually dont check your messages for a while if youre not doing it  
TG: just be aware that im in your living room when you do get home  
TG: im uh  
TG: a lil bit freaked out

Damn. 

Dave doesn't do "a little bit freaked out." He has "totally fine," "seems like he's totally fine," and "pure panic." And he'll lump the first two in together under "fine," so he's probably in the third state right now. Which is decidedly less than awesome.

Time to get off the roof. 

Like he said, he's in the living room, pacing in circles and almost tripping over the deactivated bot in the corner every round. He's not looking at where he's going, either, just fidgeting with what looks like a captcha card. 

Okay, he's definitely going to trip on it this time, you can tell. Before you actually think about what the fuck you're doing, you flash-step up behind him, grabbing his shoulder to get him to stop. The noise he makes when you touch him is scared and pretty close to inhuman, and you barely step back fast enough to not get skewered as he uncaptchalogues his sword from the card in his hand. He's reacted badly to your surprising him before, but this is kind of new. "Fuck, Dave—" 

"Oh, shit—Dirk. Okay. Dirk, definitely Dirk, okay..." Yeah, panicked. Also terrified, you think. He captchas the sword again as you step away and raise your hands. Doesn't put the card away, though. "Sorry. Jumpy." 

"No shit." No more flash-stepping. No quick moves if you can help it, actually. "Who'd you think was going to sneak up on you in my house, right after you texted me? I mean, it's not like there's a lot of people that can get the jump on you like that—" 

"One more than there should be, right now." Dave glances at you, then back down at the card in his hand as if to reassure himself that it's still there, before crossing his arms. It should come across as a defensive gesture, but you can't help but read it as him trying to be smaller, less noticeable. "Met somebody else who used to be dead today." 

"Oh?" You've gotten to deal with a lot of those—they just show up, every so often, like the game processes ghosts and spits them out here as living people if they deserve it. Usually you can tell when one's woken up somewhere near you, it's a nice sixth sense that your aspect's seen fit to give you, but you haven't gotten any hints of that lately. Otherwise you would've been trying to figure out who needed the explanation of where they were and why they weren't in the dreambubbles. "Who—" 

"Bro." He says it flatly, no emotion at all, but that only lasts for maybe ten seconds as he keeps talking. "I thought he was you for a second, okay, I swear to god, he lost the goddamn hat somewhere but not the fucking shades, y'all're the same size and you look kinda like him but I asked him about the movie you borrowed and he just looked at me for a second and then—fuck. Fuck." 

"Calm down." Dave gets quieter when he's upset, not louder, and by the end of that sentence his voice is so soft and shaky you can barely hear it. "It was really him?" 

He actually laughs at that. You don't really like the almost-hysterical sound of it. "Fuck, man, you think I'm gonna forget what a real Texan accent sounds like? He asked me what the fuck I was talking about, might've asked me some more shit if I hadn't fucking ran..." 

Well, shit. 

You've kind of always wondered about Dave's bro. He's a splinter of you, after all. A bad one, but then again you have to remember that whatever he is, you have the potential to be under the right circumstances. Or the wrong ones. (Although you'd rather fucking die, permanently, than do anything to put Dave in the state he's in right now. He's going to cut himself on that captcha card, if he doesn't stop fucking with it. Those things are virtually indestructible.) But no matter how much you've toyed with the idea of actually getting to meet him, you're still firmly on the side of not really wanting to. Ever. 

Still, you're going to have to do something here. "You got any idea where he is?" 

Dave shrugs. "Either he followed me or he didn't," he says, glancing at the window. He doesn't make any move toward it, though. "Came here 'cause I can't let him follow me home, I don't ever want him near Karkat or the grubs. Same with going anywhere else." He laughs that shaky almost-fake laugh again, raking the hand that isn't clutching the captcha card through his hair. "Shit, I sound like an asshole..." 

"You don't sound like an asshole." You go over to the window, trying to find somebody that looks a hell of a lot like you. "Scared maybe, but considering the motherfucker we're talking about here, I don't blame you." 

Dave is pacing again. You don't have to turn around to know that. "Sound like I'm throwing you under the goddamn bus—"

"Don't be an idiot. No offense, but I'm pretty sure I can handle your bro a hell of a lot better than you can." There he is, leaning against the wall of a building on the other side of the street, face turned up to watch the general vicinity of the window you're looking out of. Even from this distance you can see that yeah, that could be easily you, and fuck if that's not unnerving. "You sit tight. I'm going to go down and talk to him—" 

"Dude, don't, please—" Dave grabs your shoulder before you can even turn away from the window, and there's no mistaking the desperation in his voice. "He's gonna end up hurting you—" 

"We're just going to talk," you repeat firmly, taking his hand off your shoulder. "No one's hurting anyone." Well, that might not be true—if you have to hurt him to convince him to leave Dave alone, so be it. "Wait here, alright? I'll be back up in a bit." 

Dave does not look convinced. He still nods as you head for the door. "Be careful, dude."

"Yeah." 

By the time that you actually walk out of the door to the building, you still don't know what you're going to say to the guy. He hasn't moved in the time it took you to get down here, but he's focused on you from the moment you walk out the door. A normal person might not be able to tell, but you know his body language as well as you know your own—the slight shift to make it look like he's still looking up, that tiny change in expression as he gets a look at something he doesn't totally understand. 

God, this is weird as hell. 

"Yo." And he's the first one to speak, which isn't ideal. He straightens up to give himself that extra two inches of height, and you catch the minute look of surprise on his face as that just brings him to precisely as tall as you. 

"Hey. You know who I am?" 

He shrugs, offering you an easy grin. Okay, he's definitely more charming than you're ever going to manage; if you didn't know how upset Dave was, you might not sense anything off about him at all. "You look a hell of a lot like a baby version of me, so I'm gonna go with the 'weird universe shit' option." 

"Close enough. Come on. We're going to go for a walk." 

He probably thinks you don't catch that flash of anger. 

"What, you trying to let the kid slip out without me seeing him?" He cocks his head, crossing his arms. "Could've told him I'll just pick him up again later—" 

"Dave's not going anywhere, don't worry." You actually just wanted to be somewhere Dave couldn't see, in case this does escalate. Although you probably would've told him to leave while you were talking, if you'd thought of it. "And no, you're not picking him up later. He doesn't want anything to do with you. Not that I blame him." 

"Fuck, dude. You're gonna try and tell me whether I can or can't talk to my lil' bro?" Okay, he's not even trying to hide any of the threatening body language—do you do that when you're pissed? "I could—" 

Your sword's in your hand before he can finish that sentence, and he grunts as you slam him up against the wall and press the blade flat against his throat, just hard enough that he shuts up. "No," you tell him, and you're mildly proud of the fact that your voice stays level and calm, "you really couldn't." 

Bastard isn't going to show you any fear, though. You'll give him that much. Even though you know he's got to be in a good bit of discomfort (if not outright pain) he's still smiling. That expression's gone more than a little dangerous, though. "Back off, kid." 

"One? Make me. Two—" You grab his wrist as he snaps his hand up to try and hit you in the side of your head, twisting until he hisses in pain and pressing the katana harder against his throat with your other hand. "You don't get to call me kid." 

The whole concept of you almost being him is actually sinking in now that you proved that you think like he does. Maybe the possibility that you're not really all that opposed to the idea of hurting him is also making an impact, because his face goes blank and he goes completely still for a second. Then he slowly raises his hands, not bothering to put on another smile. "Okay, okay. Fucking chill, dude." This close to him, you can just barely see the amber shadow of his eyes, even through his shades and yours. He blinks twice, too fast to be as calm as he seems, before continuing. "Want to elaborate on what you want from me, maybe?" 

Oh, god, time to try and act like you have any percentage of a plan whatsoever. "You're going to stay away from Dave." You ease up with the pressure on the sword over his throat, then step back and put your sword away. 

There's a thin red line across his neck—he winces just a bit when he reaches up to rub at it. When it smears, he frowns at the red on his fingers before looking back up at you. "He's my goddamn brother, asshole—" 

"Yeah, and you had him for thirteen fucking years." Take another step back. You can't actually strangle him, as much as you want to. "And it's been—what, at least ten years since he's had the bad luck to have to see you?—and he's still not over what you did to him." 

"I did what I had to do to make sure he'd survive—" 

"You fucked him up in more ways than I feel like listing right now." It's really good looks can't kill, because he's trying really damn hard right now. You're almost sure he doesn't have a sword. He'd be trying to put it through your chest if he did. 

"I fucking died for that kid," he growls, and you get the feeling that that's one of his trump cards. 

The look that he gives you when you laugh is unguarded and purely baffled. "So fucking what? You're not dead now, he wasn't even the one to kill you." 

"I—" 

"Everyone died. Everyone fucking died. Doesn't make you special. Maybe you died for Dave, maybe not, I don't care. It doesn't make up for hurting him, and no one around here wants anything to do with you, either way." 

"He can tell me that himself." 

"Dude, you better hope he doesn't, because if I find out you tried to talk to him, got near him at all, your life expectancy is about as long as it takes me to find you and put a sword through your heart. Again." 

Before he even opens his mouth you know he's going to argue one of two points here: either your physical or mental ability to follow through on that threat. He goes with the latter. "You really think you can handle murdering yourself, kid?" He tilts his head enough to look at you over the top of his shades, orange eyes going narrow. 

They widen again pretty quick when you draw your katana with a motion you know he can't track. This probably makes you a horrible person, but you can feel yourself smiling as he tries to back up despite the fact that his back's already against the wall. "The fact that you think that'd even make me hesitate just goes to show we're definitely not the same person." 

No sound comes out, but his mouth shapes the word "fuck."

"You're going to walk away now." You don't move to let him leave, though. Not yet. "You're going to get at least a couple hundred miles away from here—shouldn't be that hard, find a fucking bus and tell the driver Dirk Strider said you needed a free ride. It's not all that hard to figure out how to contact me if they don't believe you." You're setting yourself up for more phone calls. God, you hate that, but it's necessary in this instance. "If you fuck with anybody, I show up. If you try to keep tabs on Dave, I show up. You really don't want me to show up." 

"Fucking bitch," he spits at you. Wow. You don't think you've ever seen such an expression of fury on a human's face. Trolls yes, cherubs maybe, but goddamn that's ugly on him. 

"Yeah, maybe. But don't try and fool yourself into thinking that I'm a dumb bitch. You fuck with Dave, with anybody, and I'm going to know." The first thing you're going to be doing when you're done with this is to message Hal, in fact. Tell him he needs to add one more person to the list of those he keeps tabs on. "Look at me and tell me you don't believe that." And you take a step back and stare at him, not raising your katana but not putting it away either. 

He does look at you. For what seems to be a long time. Long enough for you to start wondering if he's going to attack you. You can handle him if he does, but you still hope he doesn't. Dave's probably still watching from the window, he doesn't need to see that. 

In the end, though, it doesn't come to that. Dave's bro snarls wordlessly at you, shoulders you aside, and just keeps walking. Thank fucking god. And you put your sword away and head back to the side of the street that you belong on. 

Dave's still looking out the window when you get up to your apartment, but he turns around when you open the door. He's got an almost pathetic look of relief on his face. You have to force yourself not to tense, because he immediately heads for you...and he's still got his own sword in his hand. 

Yes, you know he's not going to hurt you, but you're more keyed-up than you'd like to admit. "Okay, not to be an asshole, but I'm going to rule this apartment a no-weapons area. For right now, at least." 

"What—" Dave looks confused for a second, then shakes his head, captchas his sword, and closes the distance between you. "Fuck, man, sorry—you okay? And don't you fucking dare tell me nothing happened, I could see—" 

"Nothing did happen, I swear." He isn't touching you, and he probably isn't going to, but you hold out your hands so he can see that you don't have a single mark on you. "We talked. He's gone. He not coming back, but if he does you call me and I'll make sure he goes away for good, okay?" 

"...yeah. Yeah." Dave laughs, and it doesn't sound as strained or shaky as it did before. "God, I feel like a lame piece of shit now, though...you sure you're okay?" 

"One, you're not a lame piece of shit, I just know what buttons to press to deal with that asshole. Mine are almost the same as his, after all." Dave opens his mouth to argue that point, but closes it again when you frown at him. "Two, I'm probably more okay than you are right now. You want me to walk home with you?" 

He has to think about it for a minute before he nods. "Yeah. That'd be good. You want to stay over for dinner as payment for this shit?" 

"As long as neither you nor Karkat makes it by yourself, hell yeah I do." 

Dave grins and shoves you out the door, and as you head for the elevator you're already composing an email for Hal. Might as well cover all possible bases, keep your bro as safe as you can. Especially from shit like this.

**Author's Note:**

> this is in the same timeline as my grubbabies au
> 
> also I am indecently proud of myself for getting the chatlog the right color
> 
> Continued in [Alright.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12987579)


End file.
